


Earl Grey

by whatacartouchebag



Series: Oneshots [2]
Category: The Wonderful 101
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-24 09:17:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15627558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatacartouchebag/pseuds/whatacartouchebag
Summary: The balancing act life of life is sometimes more than a mere struggle. Some find themselves swimming with ease, whilst others tend to float as best they can. There are times when even the strongest of fighters need someone to help them tread water. Set a few months after the game.





	Earl Grey

**Author's Note:**

> I was always a little saddened there's such a tiny fanbase for such an brilliant game, especially when it's so full of amazing gems of characters. Here's hoping this little addition helps ♥

Fists struck over and over, raining blows against the jerk and sway of the punching bag. The solid sound of wrapped hands meeting vinyl rang out in sharp succession as the blond showed no quarter to his target. He stayed light on his feet as he ran his body through the moves, his mind a muddy brigade of events.

With each tick of the clock, his thoughts strayed further and further from where he had begun the day. Worry, stewing emotions, debriefings. Co-workers. All of them flecked away from him like the sweat that flicked from his fringe with each pound of fist against solid wall.

He’d lost track of how long he’d stayed in the gymnasium, though the dark orange glean of the sunset told him all he needed to know. Part of him dimly worried if this was a misuse of company equipment. A small part of him; somewhere as quiet as the rest of his thoughts by now. He figured he had enough right as the rest of the staff here, or particularly, the students.

The punching bag gave a jolt on its support as Will delivered a sharp kick to its side, following with a series of lightning fast jabs. The one downfall to the punching bag, he mused simply, was the inability to practise _all_ forms of moves upon them.

He hated the thought of his uppercuts going rusty on the field.

To the side, his phone gave a short chirp, and he jerked to a stop, wrapped fist still cocked a few inches from the bag as his breath came heavily. Blue eyes stared at it momentarily, mentally bringing himself back to the present and shaking off his veritable machinations.

Sweat clung to him like a second skin as he wandered to where his belongings sat, reaching firstly for a towel. He ran it briefly through tousled hair and about his neck, rolling his shoulders as the tingle of inactivity began to set in. Still ignoring his phone, he took a short swig from a water bottle, letting the brief respite wash over him as his breath began to settle.

One of these days he was going to overdo it, he mused, beginning to methodically unwind the wrap about his hands. Reasoning with himself soon abolished the thought however; what was he, if not the primary _boxer_ of the group?

The notion brought the smile to his face and he clutched his towel again, running it swiftly along his arms and tossing it next to his gear. Picking up his phone, he clicked it on as footsteps sounded at the door, distracting him from his quarry.

“Elliot?” his dry voice cracked, forcing him to clear his throat. Perhaps he did overdo it this time.

The detective gave a brief flick of a wave as he entered, ineffectively tossing his fringe back.

“Dude, don’t you like, ever answer your calls unless it’s Nelson or something?” he asked lightly. “Three messages dude. Three.”

Will opened his mouth to reply, not even too sure what _to_ say, as he finally stared at the phone in his hand. Sure enough, blazoned across the screen was a selection of messages from the man in question. And a voicemail to boot.

“O-Oh, uh. Would you look at that,” the blond laughed softly, clearly embarrassed as he tapped them all open to clear them out. Elliot gave a heavy sigh as he stopped next to him, folding arms across his chest and shaking his head.

“You’ve been kind of spacey lately, bro. I understand the need for downtime as much as anyone else, but this is getting a tad ridiculous,” the detective told him simply. The blond straightened a little, darting his eyes back up to his friend.

“Distracted?” he answered, maybe a little too high. “No no, I’ve just been... Well, it’s been a little bit hectic trying to stay on top of work here. A-And I mean that last mission in Fiji was just... something else.”

A derisive snort met his words. “I’ll say. You didn’t even look at one babe on the beach the whole time.”

“Elliot, that wasn’t really-”

“ _The whole time._ ”

“-the point. And _you_ know it,” Will pointed sharply at him as if enunciating the not-so-stern words. Elliot’s demeanour plummeted to heavy concern as he stared at that hand, brows furrowing.

“Dude, seriously now. What’s been eating you?” he asked sharply, all sign of happy preamble gone.

Will baulked at the change in tone. “Elliot, I told you, it’s just been a bit hectic between the two lives, alright?” The detective wasn’t having the same answer twice in a row, knowing a clear dodge when he heard it, and he grabbed sharply at Will’s wrist, holding up his hand between them.

“And this? This is just ‘life getting hectic’ too, right?”

The blond almost left the biting retort jump from his tongue, until he caught sight of Elliot’s intended meaning. Blue eyes took in the sight of his knuckles, nearly split and beaten raw from his training session. How in the world had he..? He withdrew his hand easily from his friend’s grasp now that he’d made his point, staring at both of them in awe before glancing down at the wrap he had used earlier.

Sure enough, faint pink marbling stained through the cloth where oozing blood had mingled with sweat. How hadn’t he noticed?

“I just...” he breathed.

Where in the world could he start?

Shoulders slumped as the sigh wrung from him, realising he’d been thoroughly _too_ distracted and utterly caught out in one.

“Guess I _did_ overdo it this time...” he murmured, running tingling fingers through his hair. Now that he was aware of the injury, it was starting to set in, and he gave an internal groan; this was going to be an unneeded setback for a good week or so.

“Red, that is a massive understatement,” the detective muttered. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” Without waiting for his friend to woefully trail behind him, Elliot walked off to the side of the vast room, heading for the equally large bathrooms. Even if there wasn’t anything in the way of a first aid kit there, washing the sweat from his wounds would do enough to start.

The pair were silent as Elliot turned on one of the sink taps, letting the water run a little before Will stuck his hands under the faucet. He winced a little as icy water stung more than the split knuckles, yet he knew he probably deserved it as white porcelain tinged pink.

In his stomach, regret began to twist a little, and his brows furrowed. The team was going to be without him for a good week at least, all thanks to his wandering mind and adamant denial of the distractions around him.

He was going to have to buy the good blend for Nelson this time.

Will shook the last of the water from his hands as it finally ran clear, giving his fingers a light flex. The ache from damaged skin ebbed, replaced by the cold tightness in the wake of the icy water. Paper towel was offered to him and he sheepishly accepted it, blotting his knuckles gingerly and feeling somewhat thankful they _were_ almost numb from exertion and cold water.

“Blue, I’m sorry,” he breathed, falling still as he held the towel between his hands. “I... shouldn’t be walling myself off like this.” He gave a terse sigh as he struggled to bring the words to the surface. Where in the world could he even start? _When_ did it even start?

“I just... balancing has been a little... off-kilter for me... for a while now. Between... between all the missions and... and the distance. Geez, even with just being here in Blossom City as Red. Hell, even just being _me_ in Blossom City,” he added softly. He reached up, rubbing his forehead lightly, blue eyes closing. And bless him dearly, because Elliot had learned some tact in prior months; the usual loudmouth and brash comments were gone in favour of simply letting his friend talk.

He still made sharps retorts as vicious as his sword, but there seemed to be a line that even he wouldn’t cross these days. It was one thing he appreciated the most about the man.

“It’s just... been hard. A-And it’s just feels like one big... pile-up of stuff going on, with no way of slowing it down. I mean, that’s not... that’s not what being a team leader is all about. N-Not at all.”

The words spilled from him as he stood there, letting the ringing silence in their wake wash over him. There was no way to bring them back now, and he didn’t know if it was a blessed relief or a gnawing burden that sat in his stomach. It certainly didn’t help when the empty pit of adrenaline still mingled with the feeling, either.

“Since when..?”

Elliot’s voice was a bare whisper next to him, but it may as well have been a gunshot. Will gave a brief shake of his head, lips pressing to a thin line.

“Maybe... maybe since everything with Geathjerk...” he admitted softly. “I don’t know... I haven’t really been keeping track, but I-” his words were cut off sharply by a sudden thwack to his forehead. He glared incredulously back at his friend, reaching up to touch the spot.

“Blue, what the hell was-”

“And you _never_ told anyone about this?”

The acidic words brought him up short, and he snapped his mouth closed.

“You really are a dolt, you know that?”

_That_ got him glaring back at the detective; so much for his new level of tact. In the space of time it took for the first angry syllable to leave him was when he found himself in a clumsy embrace, effectively silencing him.

“Red... Will. I know there’s the whole ‘all for one, one for all’ shtick you love, but this is me,” he began simply. “Come on, bro; apologies are great and all, but I thought you would’ve had a _bit_ more faith in your wingman here.”

The blond let the knot in his stomach uncurl a little at the gentle words, and in a brief rush of realisation, he knew how silly he’d been to withhold it from his best friend. Blue eyes closed as he returned the embrace finally, letting himself relax into the easy hold as fingers sat faintly at the small of his back.

“Blue, I...”

A soft chuckle whispered into his hair and he fell silent, suddenly feeling so tentative about this precarious new position he found himself in. He still felt shaky from adrenaline leaving his system, and the sudden crashing admission he’d thrown on his friend certainly wasn’t helping matters.

“It’s cool, I already know you love me,” Elliot said smoothly. “But it’s not _me_ you gotta say something to.”

Will took a moment to process it before groaning softly.

“Nelson. Yeah I... I need to explain it to him. Everything, really.”

“So long as you buy him the good stuff, I don’t think he’ll be too hard on you,” the detective grinned at his own words, and Will gave a soft laugh at his shoulder. “I’ll put in a good word for you, too.”

The blond felt fingers give a faint squeeze along his back, now dried fabric pulling away from his skin with the movement. It still felt... odd. When it came to this sort of thing, normally he’d be a bumbling fool, tripping over his words as he tripped over himself at the same time. With Elliot, there just seemed to be a natural progression to it. Like it was something normal.

It certainly felt that way at times, and just like his swirling thoughts, he couldn’t quite put his finger on when the subtle change began. Friends became closer friends, his mind summed up succinctly. Mission time was shared, so it seemed natural to start sharing their other lives with each other.

Their real lives were just as easy to integrate as those on the battlefield, and it wasn’t long before late night binges on television and pizza became as synonymous as sparring matches between comrades.

A brief thump of hand to his shoulder brought him out of his calming thoughts, and Elliot began drawing back from the embrace.

“Alright dude, time to get you tidied up so we can hit the streets,” he announced proudly, keeping both hands on his friend’s shoulders as he drew back to give him the once over. “Because seriously? You kind of stink, and the sweat thing isn’t great either.”

Will flustered at the comment for a moment, his words caught in his throat before he gave a brief shove to his friend, sending him stumbling back as he laughed at his own joke.

“You are such a pain in the ass,” Will groused with a frustrated huff.

So much for the warm moment between best friends.

 


End file.
